


blood alone

by gaysquared



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alucard is touch starved and they’re both Stupid, Fluff, Gay Yearning Tenderness, Hair stroking, Hands, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, With a dash of spice, cuddling; sort of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22045852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysquared/pseuds/gaysquared
Summary: Alucard had learned a long time ago to subsist without blood; to survive, to cheat his nature, to grow strong against all odds.But man (nor vampire) does not live by bread (nor blood) alone.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Trevor Belmont & Sypha Belnades
Comments: 22
Kudos: 275





	blood alone

**Author's Note:**

> Just your local touch-starved lesbian with childhood trauma showing up to remind you human connection is important lmaooo
> 
> The only canon I’m super familiar with is the Netflix show and then I’m like. Half-aware of some game stuff. So.... Sorry if it’s inconsistent.

The fiery light of the setting sun filters through the still-shattered windows of the little study (not his father’s; a simple reading nook with a small fireplace, high in one of the towers, a room his mother used to love and occupy many hours in) as Alucard sweeps up dust and ash. Trevor, who for whatever reason had agreed to help him in tidying the room, works on the broken pieces of glass and discarded, scattered books; pausing every now and then to stoke the modest fire he’d assembled shortly prior.

Trevor and Sypha had arrived back at the castle only a few nights before; it alighted both a joy and grief in Alucard that he didn’t quite understand. Still, he had no choice but to feel it.

He’d never gotten to this room while he was alone. Maybe because he didn’t have the courage. With another person at his side; the ordeal softened, seemed less formidable; the waiting well of emotion safe to disassemble if he could look forward to dinner with his... Companions. To Sypha’s haphazard cooking (with Trevor’s help) and her captivating grin and perhaps, well, even Trevor’s more off-color jokes. Which was most of them.

“Come here,” Trevor says, interrupting his thoughts.

Alucard sighs. He doesn’t much appreciate being called after like a dog. But he stills, looking slightly over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Book,” Trevor says, eloquent as ever. “This one has your mother’s name in it.”

Alucard turns fully at that, curiosity winning over, and he moves to crouch down next to the Belmont. Trevor has cleared all the glass, having moved to sorting the short selection of books still strewn about. The _dhampir_ eyes the book as Trevor holds it out; a cool gray cover with a green spine presented before him.

“I think it’s just poems,” Trevor says, hair in his face in a way that plays all sorts of shadows between the fire and the setting sun. “But she wrote her name on the inside cover.”

Alucard reaches out, settling to his knees, trying his hardest to conceal the trembling he knows strangles his tired hands. His fingers settle around the spine, the tips touching where Trevor holds the thin volume. To his surprise, Trevor helps him take it, pushing it into his palm and holding out a calloused hand of his own, gently supporting Alucard’s wrist as the blond pulls the book in to himself.

Alucard thinks of widows weeping, of the melted engine room, of one of the chandeliers he’d found smashed to bits on the ground. He says nothing, swallowing at the electricity on his skin. 

“You alright?”

That damn human always chooses the absolute worst times to have _any_ ability of perception.

“Of course,” Alucard answers coolly, taking the book into his lap.

“You’ve been alone some time; we left you alone for too long. Things go funny when someone’s alone too long.”

Alucard wants to disagree, although he knows he can’t. “I’ve gotten by,” he says instead, as it’s true; at least technically.

Trevor shrugs. “Of course. You’re a scary, deadly half-vampire.” A small smirk appears on his lips; but his eyes are wistful, looking away. “Doesn’t mean you were happy, though.”

“...No.” Alucard strokes his thumb over the cover, looking down. “No, I wasn’t.”

Trevor nods, moving to put another book on the shelf. “Sypha says people aren’t meant to be alone. I don’t know about vampires, but humans need each other. They need to be around other people, at least sometimes, or else things just break down.” Alucard looks up as Trevor sighs, reaching for another tome. “And I know she’s right, which is _so_ annoying. But I know because I was alone so long.”

“Do you?”

Trevor gives a small chuckle, turning around again to lean back on his haunches. “Oh, yes. You get used to it, right? But you don’t realize how wrong it feels until you’re back around people. It’s the worst.”

The _dhampir_ hums, deciding to finger between the pages of the book below him so the conversation can’t take too much of him; can’t overwhelm him. Trevor only continues. 

“Sypha says the worst part is how we forget we need to touch other people. That we’re not meant to go without being touched for a long time, that our bodies and our minds need it; from family, from friends, from lovers.”

Alucard looks up at that, examining the human’s face.

Trevor shakes his head, laughing. “And I knew it, you know, early on. When I’d been alone so long and she’d lay her head on me, I’d feel like I was; well, I don’t know, melting. Like hot metal.”

“You really can keep yourself talking for quite some time,” Alucard says, if simply to avoid the truth in Trevor’s ramblings.

Trevor simply smiles. “Well, shit, but you knew that, you fangy fucker.”

Alucard suppresses a grin. “Did you enjoy seeing the Speakers again?”

“Did and I didn’t,” Trevor replies, shrugging, and Alucard resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Nice people,” Trevor admits.

“But not quite your style?” Alucard muses. “Not enough ale?”

Trevor gives a grunting snort, and punches him softly in the arm. Alucard observes the thin, white spindling scar running along the man’s fist. 

“That’s new,” he says. 

Trevor pauses, then looks and realizes what he means. “Ah, yeah. Ran into an angry _strigoi_ while we were out and about. Got me with one of its claws.”

“Well, it only adds to what I assume is an impressive collection.”

Trevor squints in the low light, the sun nearly completely gone, only the carmine and amber glow of the fire left. “I can’t tell if that’s a reference to my vast experience fighting monsters or a jab at my skill.”

“A bit of both,” Alucard states, smiling slightly. “So late already. How long has Sypha been down in the library?”

“A few hours, I reckon,” Trevor says, stretching a bit, drawing Alucard’s eyes like magnets. “And she’ll be down there for several more, most likely. You know how she is.”

“Yes.”

They settle into a small, comfortable quiet; sitting there, the fire cracking, as Alucard thumbs at the faded ink of his mother’s handwriting. His mother knew, he thinks. She knew no one should be alone.

“Did you really miss touch that much, after all that time?” he asks suddenly, unsure of where it comes from.

“Yes,” Trevor says quietly. “I was embarrassed, of course, when I realized. The simplest things, after so long... It feels like you’re going insane. Or it did for me. It took me a while to say anything, but; you know Sypha. She has a way of weaseling those things out of you.”

Alucard feels something sharp, aching hard in his chest. He sets down the book; carefully, carefully; onto the desk behind them, and pauses as he’s turned away from the Belmont. “I don’t think anyone’s... truly _held_ me since my mother,” he says quietly. There’s no space in him to regret it. The words just exist.

A moment of nothing. Then Trevor’s voice from behind him.

“My mother never did hold me much. I was probably a bit too rambunctious for it, anyway; always running off somewhere. But it’s...” He trails off, and Alucard listens intensely to the softness of his breathing. “No one deserves to feel alone like that. Alone in their own... skin.”

_No, I don’t think they do,_ Alucard thinks. He steals a glance at Trevor, over his shoulder. “You really think it’s that detrimental?”

“Can be.”

Alucard turns around fully, crawling slightly back to Trevor, slow, serious, cautious. “It’s a shame many would be... too proud to admit when they’re hurting in such a way.”

“Yes.” It’s soft, deep... essentially a whisper.

Alucard reaches out, grabbing hold of Trevor’s hands. The man doesn’t say anything, doesn’t fight. He doesn’t even move. The _dhampir_ places the man’s broad palms over his own ribs, feeling the fingers splay as Alucard’s lungs contract and expand. They’re warm as the fire; Alucard forgets how warm humans can be, thrumming with heat.

Trevor swallows, scoots forward. “You’re not cold.”

“No. Not when we’ve had the fire going.”

Trevor looks down at his own hands, as if to observe them wrapped under Alucard’s chest, following the motion of the other man’s breathing, the slightest shift of linen as Alucard’s shirt rubs between skin and skin. The Belmont peaks up at him through the hair that hangs in his face, studying him, and then begins to lower his head, ever so slowly. It’s so unlike him; the cautious stare, the gentle nature. Alucard doesn’t breathe until Trevor’s head is resting against his chest.

“Your heartbeat,” the man says, “it’s slow.”

Alucard hums, body thrumming with shivering ripples of warmth. 

“But strong,” Trevor finishes. “Still strong.”

Unsure of himself, Alucard lifts his arms, and brings them to wrap gingerly around the man’s sides. It feels odd, but the tightness that releases in his chest keeps him in place. Trevor sighs, and Alucard allows himself to settle, his chin on the man’s crown. Time starts to move in a funny way; stretching at the edges, the crimson of the fire light encasing him same as the heat.

He can feel Trevor’s ribs pushing against his hands, the man breathing soft and steady, although it’s loud as ever to Alucard’s ears. Quietly, Trevor stirs and moves, pulling away. Alucard watches.

“Sorry,” the Belmont says, and he’s pulling himself up into the study’s armchair. “My knees.” The man chuckles. “Guess I’m getting old.”

Alucard smiles. “Humans aren’t quite built for the work you do, unfortunately. But I guess that’s the point.” Still sitting on the floor, the _dhampir_ tilts his head. “Would you...” he pauses, taking a moment to study the ceiling. “My mother. She used to sit and stroke my hair when I was a child.”

He can hear Trevor stutter out a breath. “Y-you want me to...?”

“Yes, if that’s alright.” Alucard looks back, and Trevor nods. With a dip of his head in confirmation, the young man crawls closer to the armchair, letting his head rest against Trevor’s knees as he partially turns away.

Trevor’s breath is irregular and unsure, but soon he reaches out a hand, more careful than Alucard could expect of him, and then there are fingers running through the softness of his locks. Alucard sighs as the hand brushes his hair away and out of his face, relaxation pooling low in his gut and simmering up, up to leach the tension out of him.

Trevor’s nails graze his scalp and he feels _deconstructed_. Alucard lets his head fall further on Trevor’s knee, and gives a noise of appreciation as fingers find the sensitive skin at the base of his neck, moving to sweep the hair over and back. It’s quiet like that, Trevor’s breathing and heartbeat steady again, fortifying in its stable constance. 

Alucard feels quite aware that his head is in the Belmont’s lap, but he can’t much care at the moment. He feels drunk, or high, or however he imagines those things must feel; and then he’s turning his head, lifting up to twist his face into Trevor’s stomach.

Trevor inhales, and Alucard digs his face into the man’s jerkin, scent of worn leather filling his nose. The heart of the man above him speeds up, quickening as Alucard breathes in deep. He lulls his head, curling to look up at Trevor, the man’s hand caught in the hair near Alucard’s throat. 

He stares up at him, and he wonders what he must look like then, peering up at Trevor with piercing eyes peaking behind blond eyelashes. All he knows is that Trevor’s heart is hammering, rapid and fierce, and the sound fills Alucard up everywhere, an overwhelming, seductive love song, as he watches the flush spread on Trevor’s face.

“You know,” Trevor says, and it’s so deep, so low, so quiet. Like he’s afraid to disturb the stillness of the air between them, even with his heart pounding on like that. “They say touch is most beneficial when it’s skin to skin.”

Both honest _and_ audaciously forward. Alucard wouldn’t expect anything less.

“Do they?” he asks. He hears Trevor swallow and watches the bob of his throat. The man blushes so easily. It could _almost_ be cute.

“Yes,” Trevor says.

“Have you held Sypha like this?” Alucard questions quietly.

Trevor laughs. “Sort of. But I do usually keep my clothes on.”

He can’t help the smirk that forms on his lips. “Pity. I’d hazard she’s missing out.”

A skipped breath, and it’s so lovely to hear. Trevor nods, as if he doesn’t know what else to do, and leans down to look at him, the hunter’s hand on the face of the man below him. “Are you still lonely, Alucard?”

A soft hum in reply. “Ask me again when you’re out of those clothes.”

**Author's Note:**

> (BUT DO 👏🏼 YOU 👏🏼FEEL 👏🏼 HELD 👏🏼 BY HIM 👏🏼)
> 
> well... what do YOU think happens next, lmao
> 
> —  
> Trevor: I’ve never prayed in my life
> 
> Alucard: *looks at him Like That*
> 
> Trevor:
> 
> Trevor: LORD,,,  
> —
> 
> Also I see “Alucard barely wears real clothes a lot of the time” and raise you “he gets super annoyed about how Trevor wears Too Many clothes. He WILL tear that shit right off if Trevor takes too long.”


End file.
